


Non Ducor, Duco

by missgoalie75



Series: Ex Scientia Vera [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8071606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgoalie75/pseuds/missgoalie75
Summary: Theodore Nott is watching Amycus Carrow cackling about his use of the Cruciatus Curse on Neville Longbottom, feeling an inexplicably strong twinge of annoyance. | The 1997-1998 year at Hogwarts in which Theodore Nott makes his choices.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Characters/Pairings:** Theodore Nott, featuring: Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, various Death Eaters; Theodore/Daphne  
>  **Warnings:** mild language, racism, murder, etc.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimers apply – recognizable text is not mine, but by JKR.  
>  **A/N:** Title is Latin for "I am not led, I lead." A million thank yous to Kahlia, the beta, because she's heard about this fic since the beginning of our friendship, so she tells me, and I'm EMBARRASSED. Also thank you to all my other friends who were probably like, 'this fic sounds terrible why are you still trying to finish it.' I'm so thrilled I can finally post this thing: I started this doc in August of 2011 so SUCK IT.

Theodore Nott is watching Amycus Carrow cackling about his use of the Cruciatus Curse on Neville Longbottom, feeling an inexplicably strong twinge of annoyance. It's the end of October, two months into the school year and cursing students lost its amusement long ago. Now it's just repetitive and dull, two adjectives that shouldn't be used to describe a N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Then again, it's no longer called that; it's now "Dark Arts" class, which, frankly, Theodore doesn't need. 

He grew up with a Death Eater for a father – he knows quite a lot about dark magic without the 'teachings' of Amycus Carrow, whom Theodore always found to be less than intelligent, not to mention a spineless coward. 

To be honest, the only interesting aspect of this class right now is Longbottom. Although his tiresome rebelling should be more irritating to Theodore, it fascinates him. Doesn't Longbottom get fed up with standing up over and over again? How can he continue to let himself be punished time and time again, knowing exactly what his actions do? 

Or maybe Theodore is just a tad desperate for some mental stimulation, trying to find meanings in things that shouldn't be deeply analyzed. 

The only class nowadays that's even remotely challenging anymore is Transfiguration; Professor McGonagall seems determined to not let the Dark Lord and his followers deter her from teaching, even though she doesn't waste an opportunity to express where her loyalties lie.

A true Gryffindor to heart, and he has to respect her for sticking to her morals at least a little. Especially since it's the only class nowadays where he has to work for his O.

"Nott! Would you like to give it a go?"

Nott glances up from a Charms textbook he was reading (of course Carrow never notices the fact that he's always reading the wrong texts during class) to the front of the room. Longbottom is lying on the ground, attempting to get to his feet, but his arms are shaking. Theodore supposes that taking Cruciatus Curses and other jinxes for almost a half hour will certainly wear a person out. It's a good thing that Longbottom has the weekend to recover, for his sake anyway.

Theodore raises an eyebrow at Carrow. There are only a handful of minutes left in the class and Longbottom is practically passed out already. Not to mention the fact that Theodore doesn't get off on hexing people who can't fight back, unlike many of the people currently at this school.

"I don't think I need to prove my magical superiority over the likes of him," Theodore responds coolly, eliciting laughter from his housemates.

At that moment, the bell rings and everyone leaves the classroom, anxious to get to lunch.

Theodore leaves the classroom alone, like usual.

**

Professor Slughorn is now the Head of Slytherin, given that Snape is the elusive Headmaster of Hogwarts; Theodore has barely seen the man twice this term. As a professor, Slughorn is pushover and a bumbling fool. But when it comes to his own wellbeing and the safety of his students, he can be surprisingly sharp.

On the first night of the students' arrival at school, Professor Slughorn informed the Slytherins to follow orders and keep their heads down, that there was "no need to cause trouble." Some of them laughed, mainly sons of Death Eaters, but some nodded in complete seriousness.

Theodore knows what the other houses say about Slytherin – "there isn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin." But there's Peter Pettigrew, whom Theodore saw this past summer at the Malfoy Manor, a shame on the Gryffindors. And there are Ravenclaws, clever enough to hide and lie about their true feelings until now. And he's sure that _someone_ within the last millennium was a Hufflepuff who didn't set the best example.

Now that's something to research.

**

Malfoy used to be someone Theodore would occasionally talk to, given that they've been raised in the same type of environment. Now Theodore can't look at him without a wave of disgust washing over him. Theodore is grateful when Malfoy leaves the school for whatever mission he's been assigned.

While Malfoy is one of the more intelligent people of Theodore's year, he doesn't have a spine at all, thus forcing him to bend to his father's and the Dark Lord's wills. From time to time, Theodore has toyed with the idea of asking him if it's really as glorious as their fathers make it out to be.

Of course he already knows the answer to that.

**

Longbottom gives him a funny look when they pass in the corridor the week after Theodore's refusal in class.

He pointedly ignores him and goes on his way.

**

_Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting_ – it’s painted, permanent, on the stone walls _._

Theodore rolls his eyes.

**

After Transfiguration on Friday, Professor McGonagall asks Theodore to stay after class. A few of the Slytherins attempt to " _oooh_ " at him like first years, but one swift glare from him silences them all. _Please_ , like Theodore would ever do anything _bad_ that would require his being held behind after class.

He's way too clever to be caught.

He quickly puts away his books (the right subject, of course – he knows better than to read about another subject in her class) and walks up to her desk, standing still and waiting for the last straggler to leave the classroom.

She doesn't bother to comfort him, saying worthless words like, "You're not in trouble," or "Don't be nervous." Because he knows he's not in trouble and he hasn't been nervous for anything since he was eleven and standing in the Great Hall, waiting for his name to be called for the Sorting Hat.

Once the last person leaves the room, Professor McGonagall looks at him with sharp eyes and asks, "Would you like extra credit?"

…That is the first time any professor has asked him such a question. He's one of the few people to have gotten straight Os on all his O.W.L.s – even Hermione Granger didn't pull that off – and Snape has told him in the past that he's one of the brightest wizards of this generation of children at Hogwarts. So he can't mask his look of surprise at her inquiry.

"I've been informed by Professor Slughorn that you seem rather bored with all your academics."

"Some of the classes aren't very academic, Professor," he counters.

"No, some aren't," she agrees, with thinly veiled anger and bitterness.

Honestly, he can sympathize with the true professors of this school – even Professor Slughorn a bit: the Dark Lord taking over Hogwarts was a _terrible_ idea and it was only done so the Dark Lord could essentially dance on Professor Dumbledore's corpse. Nothing more.

There's probably some 'strategy' about grooming the students, making them learn and eventually convert to the Dark Arts, but frankly, it's too late for most of them: they've all made their choices.

(Except for him.)

"So," she clears her throat, "are you interested?"

Ten minutes later he's walking out of the class with three new assignments that will no doubt keep him busy for the rest of term, trying to ignore the small smile she normally gives to her favorite students like Granger and Potter when he's not paying attention.

He never understood that favoritism, but he assumes it has to do with Potter's parents who, to Theodore's knowledge, were exceptional wizards. He has no idea why that talent didn't pass on to their son, who really is mediocre without constant luck and help.

And _some people_ wonder why many doubt Harry Potter being able to defeat the Dark Lord, who at least is incredibly intelligent and powerful; he clearly has the upper hand and it would take a bloody miracle for Potter to beat him.

**

The Sorting Hat reads his mind for exactly three seconds before calling out, "Slytherin!"

One of Theodore's biggest regrets is not engaging in a conversation with the hat. At seventeen, he beats himself about it every once in a while, but at eleven, he was too nervous and in awe for his brain to properly function.

(And scared – too scared of what his father would say.)

It was the second and last time in his life when that happened.

**

"Excuse me, but will you be using that textbook for long?"

Theodore glances up to find Luna Lovegood standing on the other side of the table, a small smile gracing her face as her body sways just a little from side to side. 

He twists his wrist so he can read the time. The Slytherins' curfew is at ten while everyone else's is at nine, so she has forty-five minutes until she has to make her way back.

"Five minutes or so," he responds, getting back to answering his last question.

He should've expected her to take the free seat at the table, but he's still annoyed by it all the same. Hopefully she won't say a word and he can finish his homework assignment in peace.

"Your father is outside the library now."

Theodore furrows his brows and looks up at her. "What?"

"He's carrying some books out of the library."

He opens his mouth to say that's not possible – his father hasn't been doing anything that would require his presence at Hogwarts. Then he closes it, thinking about the best way to converse with Luna Lovegood, who is infamous for her random, nonsensical tangents.

"How do you know my father?"

"I remember his face in _The Daily Prophet_ last year," she answers, looking up at the ceiling.

He nods, his lip twitching with a grimace as he goes back to his work.

"But you don't really look like him," she adds as an afterthought.

He freezes, a few drops of ink falling from the point of his quill and onto his parchment. 

He always knew she was a nutter, but what she just said was _outlandish_ ; it was his father's _great_ accomplishment that his only son is almost the spitting image of himself, save for skin that tans remarkably in the summer and almost-hazel eyes.

"Your mother must be very pretty."

The quill falls from his hand. "What makes you say that," he questions in a low voice.

Her unusual silver eyes finally lock with his, gazing with purpose. "I see her in you."

He slams his textbook shut with a snap. "Good evening, Lovegood," he says through gritted teeth as he stands up.

"I'm sorry, was she the one you saw die?"

The first thought that comes to mind – and it's quite irrational – is that she must be a Legilimens; _no one_ knows whom he saw die, giving him the ability to see Thestrals. But she's not even staring into his face, which is the minimum requirement for such magic, so he begrudgingly rules it out. 

He should walk away right now – she isn't worth his time and he has better things to attend to, but he's almost frozen in his spot.

"What makes you think that?" he inquires calmly, still standing above her.

"I watched my mother die as well," she answers like it's the easiest thing in the world.

He so badly wants to retort that just because they've both watched their mothers pass, it doesn't mean that they have a _psychic_ connection due to similar losses. 

"I can see it on your face," she explains without his prompting.

He clenches his jaw. "You know my peers would curse you through the window for much less," he threatens.

"And you wouldn't?"

"I don't see the point."

And he finally walks away.

**

He hates that he spends almost two hours in bed thinking about Luna Lovegood.

**

He finds out why his father was in the library the next day, when everyone is ordered to the courtyard after supper.

By the time Theodore makes it to the courtyard, it's already filled with students in wool-lined cloaks, shivering as they wait in silence. He's confused as to why they're standing together in groups in a circle formation until he spots the mountain of books in the middle. He pauses mid-walk, unable to school his face into an indifferent expression in time because this isn't something he thought would happen.

Silly, really, since this happens in all dictatorships; he just thought wizards would be above this petty Muggle tactic that should have been left in the past with Grindelwald.

He makes his way to the group of Slytherins, stuffing his hands into his pockets to clench into fists because he wants to stop it – carry as many books as he can and put them back onto their proper shelves.

The Carrows start speaking and Theodore looks around him, taking in the indignant faces of the Gryffindors and the subdued Hufflepuffs, but it's the Ravenclaws, so _distraught,_ that have his attention. Some are staring at the pile of books with a burning desire to take while others are closing their eyes, maybe hoping for some miracle or a _savior_ that's too busy running around the world without a damn clue. And then there's Luna Lovegood, staring ahead – not looking at the books or at the Death Eaters or anyone else – expressionless with tears in her eyes.

The books are lit on fire with cheers and jeers, the flames so hot and bright they make everyone wince and step back.

The light reflects fallen tears on her face and he tries to keep his breathing even. He wishes he didn't eat a bite.

**

At two in the morning, he enters the common room, surprised to see someone still awake, sitting on the comfortable couch with a textbook in front of her and a desperately determined expression on her face. He can hear her murmur a spell, pointing toward the palm of her non-wand hand, but there's nothing more than a spark.

Just as he's about to turn back, she looks up at him. Daphne Greengrass, one of the three people in their year that is in all the same classes as him.

He doesn't think he's spoken more than two words to her.

"Evening, Nott," she says, her voice low.

"Evening."

He's about to turn back to the boys' dormitory until he catches sight of the blood on the palm of her hand, he walks over to the couch, glancing over the textbook to see the spell she's using and where she's hurt – four perfect crescents on the palm of her hands.

"I think my wrist movements are off since this is my wand-hand," she says, wiggling the fingers of her injured hand.

He sighs, taking her bloodied hand and muttering the spell himself, watching as the cuts close and leave pink marks behind. He furrows his brow in confusion – he considers himself pretty adept at healing charms and this shouldn't leave scars.

"I don't mind, Nott. Thank you," she says, gently extracting her hand from his. She rushes off to the girls' dormitory and he's left with the scent of her perfume for a minute until he snaps out of it and heads to bed as well.

**

Day after day, the same lack of education…the same _dullness_. The only difference now is that Luna Lovegood is smiling at him in the corridors and Greengrass gives him acknowledging nods during class and meals.

He doesn't want to think about it, but he goes over that night in the common room, how his charm didn't heal her properly – there's absolutely no reason for it. He's cut himself to the bone and has healed himself without leaving a mark – why was that not the case for her?

The post arrives during lunch and his owl drops off a small package into his lap. He smiles.

**

He waits until past midnight to open it, muttering a charm to get it back to its proper size and weight. After the burning and the future banning of a horribly long list of books that's been given out to all the students, he's decided to use it as a future-purchase list, ordering a few and giving a small fortune to smuggle them past Death Eater security.

He's well engrossed in his reading until: 

"That was burned in the fire."

He whips his head up to find Greengrass staring at the book with eyes flashing almost maniacally. "I saw it in the pile and watched it crumble into ash. I planned on taking out of the library that weekend."

Suddenly, stupidly, he realizes that having possession of this book has dire consequences. Sure, he doubts that he'd be seriously punished for being caught with it since he's the son of a prominent Death Eater, but it would be taken away without further discussion.

And that makes him _angry_ , that possibility of censorship that he absolutely refuses to contend with in regards to his life.

"You can borrow it this weekend," he finds himself saying.

To her credit, she simply nods, a content smile on her face. "Thank you again, Nott."

Her black hair reflects the light from the fireplace just as well as her eyes did.

**

They meet again on Saturday night in the early hours and he hands the book without a word. He doesn't bother to exercise caution since she seems to be one of the smarter people in their House.

(His father taught him and Professor Slughorn reiterated on September first - how to navigate in this world – the old and the new, respectively. This is the opposite of being cautious - keeping his head down, keeping to himself, not giving anything away. Theodore Nott is seventeen years old and he’s coming to the realization that he wants to take back what's rightfully his, while he can.)

**

He's doing his homework in the library again, trying not to notice the gaping holes on the shelves when Lovegood takes a seat across from him, looking more subdued than usual.

He wonders when she bothers to do homework, since all she seems to do is meander around the castle with that vacant expression on her face, maybe humming a song.

"Are you going to be a Death Eater?" she asks so softly that he almost misses the question.

He stops writing and stares at her. She's not looking at him; her gaze is focused on the window where he's sure a Dementor just flew past.

"I haven't made my decision yet," he settles with after a few minutes of thought.

"They burned books."

"That's not a good reason to join a failing side."

"Then what is?"

"If they were winning."

"So you're just going to go with whichever side wins."

"It's a solid means of guaranteeing life." He can't help but smile when he sees her disapproving expression. "You've been hanging around Gryffindors for too long, Lovegood."

"I like to think that we have all the Houses within ourselves."

"That's a nice, naïve notion. Something Dumbledore would undoubtedly say and look where it got him."

"I don't believe it's naïve – I know there's Ravenclaw in you."

He remembers being eleven and almost thinking about Ravenclaw, but then vehemently demanding Slytherin.

"If I had to be in any other House, I suppose that one would do."

"I'm sure you have Hufflepuff and Gryffindor as well."

He snorts. "No, I don't."

She narrows her eyes at him, surprisingly lucid. "You're not blind to your Gryffindor traits."

He collects his belongings and leaves, trying not to think about the five books he just ordered. Daring, indeed.

**

"I have a proposition."

Theodore looks up from his book, noting Greengrass' direct stare, but nervous hands. "Yes?"

"Tracey Davis wants to read one of the texts you've purchased."

"She caught you reading it," he concludes.

She at least has the decency to flush. "I trust her."

"I barely trust you."

She glares at him. "Please. It's been weeks and nothing's happened. You may be a loner beyond the occasional conversation with Malfoy, but I'm not. If you want, you can charge a fee for her to borrow it. That's more than fair. If you want, I can start contributing as well."

He almost says no, that's not necessary, but that would mean giving her preferential treatment, which he's not willing to acknowledge. "That's fair," he agrees.

"She wants _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_. I can get it Sunday night from you."

"There should also be –"

"I'll disguise it."

He nods. "Good."

"Good."

**

Obviously, Theodore was right to trust his instincts because not even two weeks after Greengrass asked permission to give his books away to her friend, she comes to him again and says there are more people interested.

"Daphne…" he starts without thinking.

She blinks in surprise at his using her first name, but quickly recovers and says, "You know how it works – when adolescents are denied something, it makes them want it even more."

He inhales and exhales slowly. "Just within our House."

She winces a miniscule amount. "Not just within our House."

He stares at her.

"There are three Ravenclaws."

"That entire House and everyone else will know about it within the week – absolutely not."

"Fine, just Slytherins."

This is _absurd_ – he needs to put an end to this right now, except the more classes he suffers through, the more furious he becomes and the more he wants to –

(Gryffindors are reckless and stupid and are _not_ meant to be emulated, at least these days if you want to survive, which is Theodore's main priority while he's on this precarious line of remaining uncommitted.)

**

Theodore needs to stop going to the library at the same times so Luna Lovegood won't be able to find him.

She's smiling. "I was right about the Gryffindor in you."

He gives her a nasty glare. 

"I was hoping to place an order," she continues, unperturbed.

"Are you going to blab to your Gryffindor friends?"

He's not an idiot – he knows what she and Longbottom and the Weasley girl are up to along with most of their peers. It's obvious they've revived that ridiculous Dumbledore's Army, but the real question is why Headmaster Snape is letting it happen – is he really that unaware, given that he’s rarely around the school lately? Or should his loyalty be questioned again, like it supposedly was all those years ago?

"There aren't many as interested in reading as they are in preparing for battle."

"A surprisingly honest answer."

"I don't believe you'll tell."

"Oh, you don't?"

She smiles again. "Is it possible for you to procure _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts_?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I like saucy tricks. Sounds delicious."

He sighs. He writes down the price on a spare bit of parchment and slides it to her. "Acceptable?"

"Oh yes."

"Meet me here next Tuesday and I expect full payment."

"Lovely. Thank you, Theodore."

He nods and focuses back on his work.

**

It's one week until the Christmas holidays and Theodore hands in his extra credit assignments to Professor McGonagall.

"I can give you more after the holidays," she tells him, leafing through his work briefly. 

"Thank you, Professor."

She briefly glances at him. After a few moments of silence, she says, "On second thought, if you'd be interested, I have some readings and work for you to do while you're at home."

"I'm interested."

She gives him a curt nod. "Good. See me after your last class. Have a good weekend, Nott."

"You too, Professor."

**

When he receives the work, he's surprised that it's enchanted. It's faint, but he can tell there's some sort of concealment charm. After doing enough of them on dozens of books this term, he's too familiar with the mark it leaves on objects.

"Security will increase once students return for the spring term," Professor McGonagall informs him. "It's best to be careful."

He nods and places the roll of parchment into his satchel, hiding it well. "Have a good holiday, Professor."

"As to you, Nott."

**

"Have a good holiday, Theodore!"

Theodore whips his head to find no one other than Luna Lovegood standing over him.

"You as well," he manages to say without too much of a struggle.

She pats his shoulder, giving him a parting smile before skipping off.

He wonders how much longer she'll be able to keep that spring in her step, especially with her father writing articles in support of Harry Potter – it's only a matter of time before that comes to an end. She may end up watching another parent die.

For her sake, he hopes that won't be the case, but he knows too well that this may be the last time he ever sees Luna Lovegood.

**

It's not until Theodore is on the train in his own compartment does he go through Professor McGonagall's parchments, realizing that there is nothing involving Transfiguration at all: they're a lesson of spells, stronger and more complicated spells for concealment.

His hold on the parchment tightens and he forces himself to breathe evenly for the rest of the ride home.

**

When he gets off the Hogwarts Express, he bumps into Daphne Greengrass and her younger sister Astoria, who looks vaguely like her sister in terms of the same fair complexion and dark hair, but Astoria has youthful features: wider eyes and a bow mouth. _She won't be as pretty_ , Theodore thinks, even though he doesn't know where that passing thought came from.

"Happy Christmas, Theodore," Daphne says, a small smile on her face. He can feel her hand slip into the pocket of his robe, but he doesn't comment on it. "I'll see you next term."

"You too, Daphne."

She smiles wider, brighter, and it's a good thing she goes off with her sister because he's at a loss for words.

**

(He opens the gift when he's alone in the too large, too empty home and it's a nice black and gold quill, something he'd never buy for himself, but he appreciates the gesture. In fact, he catches himself smiling until he's summoned for dinner.)

**

"I've heard from the Carrows that you're at the top of your year," his father says, sitting far away at one end of the dining table.

"Unfortunately, it's not much of a challenge," Theodore answers, carefully cutting his meat. 

"If that's the case, then there should be nothing stopping you from pledging your full loyalty to the Dark Lord."

Theodore chooses his words carefully. "I've committed to my education – I would like to take my N.E.W.T.s and finish properly beforehand. N.E.W.T.s will still be important when the Dark Lord has won, correct?"

He tries not to hold his breath as he waits for his father's response. "The Dark Lord will certainly look forward to having a bright Death Eater to serve him."

Theodore doesn't respond and continues eating, even though the food tastes like dust. He considers bringing up Daphne, give him extra material to support his decision, but he doesn't want to put her in his father's radar. Besides, his whole life, he's managed to get what he wanted with divulging as little information as possible – it's not necessary to mention her.

**

He remembers Christmases when his mother was alive – the house would be decorated with tinsel and holly and the house-elves would sing carols. She'd charm the lake behind the house into solid ice and they'd skate until their cheeks were bright red (until his father would demand them inside to get ready for a dinner party).

Winter was always her favorite time of the year – she loved the holiday cheer and the promise of a new year.

Now all he sees and thinks of is death.

**

_Daphne Greengrass –_

_Thank you for your gift – it's a handsome quill and will be used often. While not expected, it is certainly appreciated._

_Enclosed is a gift for you. Apologies that it's past Christmas, but I admittedly had some difficulty in finding something suitable._

_I hope you've been enjoying your holiday and I will see you in January at Hogwarts._

_Regards,_  
_Theodore Nott_

The letter is enchanted to read as information about a _Witch Weekly_ subscription.

**

_Theodore Nott –_

_You're welcome – I saw the quill during our last Hogsmeade trip and it reminded me of you. Besides, it's the least I could do for forcing you to expand your enterprise._

_Thank you for the lovely bookmark – it was thoughtful of you, not to mention very astute._

_I will see you at Hogwarts – enjoy the rest of the holiday!_

_Sincerely,_  
_Daphne Greengrass_

The letter is enchanted to read as a potions journal subscription.

**

(He doesn't tell her that the bookmark was his mother's.)

**

They are invited to Malfoy Manor for a dinner party. All of the Death Eaters and their children, of course. Theodore hopes the Dark Lord won't be there – he's heard he's a master at Legilimens. But it's clear as soon as he and his father enter the Malfoy Manor, the Dark Lord is not there – there’s too much chatter and laughter.

Theodore talks with a few of his father's colleagues and sips on Quintin Black, eating dinner with his peers whom he rarely if it all speaks to at school. At the table, he sits next to Draco Malfoy, who has dark rings under his eyes, not saying a word. He missed the last few weeks of term.

Eventually, Theodore slips outside to the gardens. It's admittedly beautiful, even in the dead of winter with snow dusting the shrubberies. In the spring and summer it was always a sight to see as a child.

He's finishing his drink when he spots Malfoy sitting on a stone bench, eyes fixated on the gravel below their feet. He hadn't heard him.

"Evening, Malfoy," Theodore says.

Malfoy sits up straight and nods – only his eyes give him away. He needs to work on that if he plans on surviving. "Evening. Enjoying the festivities?"

"I'm not one for parties."

"No, of course not."

Silence.

"I take it you won't be accepting the Mark quite yet," Malfoy finally says.

"I will be returning to Hogwarts for the spring term and taking my N.E.W.T.s, yes," Theodore answers.

Malfoy half-smirks, half-grimaces as he shakes his head. "Everyone has to make a choice."

"My education is a choice I made years ago, and one that I will see through before making another. My choices are none of your concern, Malfoy. If I were you, I'd focus on your own."

He leaves him in his family's garden.

When he walks back inside, however, he nearly runs into Daphne.

She recovers faster and gives him a dazzling smile. Her cheeks are flushed – she's holding a half-empty glass of some eggnog concoction that's already had three of his peers drunk as can be. "Hello, Theodore! Lovely to see you."

He gives her a small smile. "Happy Christmas. Did you just arrive?"

"Yes – we were visiting extended family in Kyoto. My sister begged and begged to leave early in order to attend at least the tail end of the party." She leans in a little. "To be honest, I think it's because she fancies Malfoy a little."

He raises an eyebrow. "I think she needs better taste."

She grins. "It's an idle passing, I'm sure she'll get over it."

He's not sure he'll get over Daphne in that phthalo green dress, but that's most likely the alcohol clouding his judgment.

"I have to go – I'll see you at school."

"Alright, take care of yourself."

"You too."

He reaches out to touch her arm and then leaves, feeling hot around his collar. He definitely should not consume alcohol stronger than Butterbeer.

**

At the very end of the night, he overhears a conversation regarding the Lovegoods, how Death Eaters captured Luna from the Hogwarts Express a week ago. That she's in the dungeons under their feet at this moment with Ollivander, no less. He swallows down bile and moves to his father's side, silent and a negative emotion that he refuses to name festering in his gut.

(Disappointment.)

She could've at least found a way to return his book.

**

In Theodore's home there's a locked room. Theodore's father has worked for years to open it, but it seems to be sealed shut.

"There can't be anything of importance in there," Theodore's father mutters angrily under his breath during one dinner when Theodore was ten. "Your mother was not very bright."

Theodore's wasn't naïve – he knew his parents' marriage was arranged in order to continue a pure bloodline. His mother was fifteen years younger than his father.

But his father was wrong – she wasn't stupid. During his third year he reads about spells beyond _Alohamora_ and it's too easy when he returns home for Christmas to test the spell, using his cut finger for blood.

The room is enchanted to be taller than their home – so tall he can't see where it ends and there are books. So many books. Books of magic and children's books and Muggle novels, which explains why she sealed it so well.

He sealed it back and hasn't been inside since.

Until now.

Now, he takes what he can. He doesn't have much time while his father is meeting the Dark Lord, so he flies books off the shelves, shrinking them and putting as many as he can in a bottomless bag.

Then, sneaks off to London.

**

Theodore returns to Hogwarts for the new term and nothing has changed. Headmaster Snape is rarely seen, the Carrows treat education as a joke and means of torture, and Longbottom and Weasley still run their little club, undeterred by Luna Lovegood's disappearance.

What has changed is his involvement in this 'enterprise,' as Daphne aptly labeled it. He shows her the collection he snuck into Hogwarts and he's never seen her so happy.

"This is wonderful…" she says, going through book after book. She lingers on an old one. "This has been out of print for years – it's difficult to find. Where did you get these?"

"They belonged to my mother."

She takes her hand off the book, rubbing the dust she's accumulated between the pads of her fingers. 

"She died when I was eight," he says.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He stands up, closing his bag and adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "Inform our clients that if they so much as bend a page of any of these books, I will personally see to their proper punishment."

She smiles. "That'll be frightening enough."

**

He forgot over the holidays how much he can't _stand_ this compulsory Muggle Studies class. How many times does it need to be reiterated that Muggles are animals? It's just beating a dead horse.

He figures exchange routes and reads what he likes and promptly ignores Alecto Carrow's rants.

**

"Nott – what are you reading?"

 _Damn it_. He lifts his head calmly, closing his book and answering, "Arithmancy. My apologies, Professor Carrow." He places the book, which is _far_ from an approved text, into his bag and wordlessly enchants it shut.

"Perhaps you would be willing to demonstrate an effective Imperius Curse to review what we taught last term?"

Longbottom is up in the front again. Theodore stands up and walks to the front of the classroom, staring at Longbottom for a few seconds before saying, " _Imperio_."

He gives Longbottom a moment of peace. As he understands, there's supposed to be a pleasant feeling that comes with being under the curse. "Jump up and down in place," Theodore orders.

Longbottom does so easily. The class snickers.

"Sing your favorite Spellbound song."

Longbottom starts singing some awful song by the group, completely out of tune and now the class is in an uproar, laughing away.

Theodore lets them have their laugh for a few minutes and then orders him to "Crawl on the floor."

Longbottom bends his knees, stretches his arms out, but doesn't. 

Theodore takes a step closer, wand arm steady. "Crawl on the floor."

Longbottom bends further and his face starts contorting. _Now_ Theodore is interested. " _Crawl on the floor_ ," he demands, stepping even closer.

Longbottom's face is turning red and he screams, full of defiance and rage, but he does end up on the floor, falling hard on his knees and smacking his head against a nearby desk.

Theodore smirks and removes the curse, pocketing his wand.

"You see, students?” Carrow says, “You need to have a strong will to counter the will of your opponent…"

Theodore stops paying attention and goes back to his seat, bored again.

**

"Nott."

Theodore puts down his quill and takes his time inhaling and exhaling before glancing up to face Longbottom.

Who is holding the book Theodore lent to Lovegood last term.

Longbottom takes the seat in front of him, placing the book between them. "Luna gave this to me at the end of last term, saying that she didn't want to misplace it over the holiday since she borrowed it from someone. I've been wondering who she borrowed it from – but this is a banned book, isn't it? I asked a Ravenclaw and she nearly cried, telling me to hide it."

"Is there a point to this story?" Theodore prompts, one hand resting comfortably on the table while the other curls into a fist on his thigh.

"I think she borrowed it from you."

"Do you? And what, exactly, is your proof of such an accusation?"

Longbottom taps the cover of _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts_. "There's a trace left on here that's the same I sense on you."

He raises an eyebrow. "You… _sense_ it."

Longbottom's face turns red. "I'm right, I know it. It has to be – she was talking about the Slytherins not all being little Death Eaters in training –"

"Well, at least she's not as stupid as I originally thought."

"What did you –"

"Is it really any wonder _why_ so many Slytherins have become Death Eaters?" Theodore points out, cold as can be. "At least it feels more accepting than it does at school. Maybe you can think of that the next time you and your Gryffindor or Hufflepuff and even Ravenclaw friends give dirty looks to first year Slytherins who have done nothing wrong." Theodore takes the book and puts it on his lap. "Now get out before I hex you to the point you won't be able to walk again."

Longbottom stares in shock for a second until he finally manages to gather whatever wits he has and leave him alone.

Theodore waits until his hand stops shaking.

**

Theodore was so concerned about people outside of his House exposing his operation when really, he should've been just as concerned with his own peers. A fifth year wasn't being careful enough and was caught with a book – he pointed the finger at Theodore and now he's sitting in the Headmaster's office. He's never been here before, even when Dumbledore was Headmaster. He doubts it was as cold and dark while Dumbledore was alive.

"How did you come to procure this, Nott?" Headmaster Snape questions.

"I purchased it last term."

"Before or after the demonstration."

Theodore looks him in the eye. "After."

"And how many books do you have in the castle that are forbidden."

Now, he lies. "Six."

Headmaster Snape stares at him for a long while and he must know he's lying – Theodore can tell, but eventually, Headmaster Snape nods. "Very well. I believe six weeks detention will suffice as punishment. I expect these six books to be on my desk by tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, Headmaster."

Headmaster Snape sends Slughorn, who had brought him in and was standing near the exit, on his way just in time for Theodore's father to arrive, clearly furious.

Taking a breath is not an option. Theodore keeps his face expressionless and receives the reprimand in silence. He's used to it.

**

What he is not used to, however, is the small group of Slytherins waiting for him in the common room.

His eyes fall on Daphne, who seems to not care that she's giving away her feelings too easily. Nervous at what he might give back, he tears his gaze away and orders everyone to return his belongings within the hour unless they want to be cursed.

When everyone scrambles to their respective dormitories, Daphne asks, "What did you get?"

"Six weeks' detention – a week for every book."

She narrows her eyes. "There are _a lot_ more than six circulating through the school. Snape believed you?"

He snorts. "No. Probably just has a soft spot for a future, promising Death Eater," he says, even though he doesn't believe it.

Daphne's lips part as if she wants to say ( _ask_ ) something, but she promptly purses them together, as he expected.

(He just tries to ignore the awful feeling in his throat, like he wants her to do it.)

**

He's actually never received detention before, but he figured it would be mind-numbingly dull with organizing supply closets, cleaning, or fixing what first years have managed to botch.

Professor Slughorn simply has him cleaning his classroom after dinner, given that some third years managed to melt their cauldrons during the last period of the day. 

But by eleven at night when he's finally allowed to return to his dormitory, he's dragging his feet. How is he supposed to endure _six weeks_ of this?

**

A painful week later, Theodore is suffering in Dark Arts yet again. Daphne is sitting next to him, drawing delicate flowers with sharp thorns in the margins of her parchment.

Frankly he assumed he'd be called on for not paying attention since he's watching her hand create art and occasionally glancing at her face, her dark lashes stark against her skin and the softness of her lips when she bites down on her bottom one.

But Daphne is called on. 

The spell is Dark Magic, something that would involve transfiguring Finnigan and there's no guarantee he'd be changed back properly.

Daphne looks blankly at Carrow, then Finnigan, and then back at her notes. "No," she answers with perfect disinterest, adding details to one of her flowers. "I don't feel much like interacting with scum," she continues.

Carrow narrows his eyes. "It wasn't a request, Miss Greengrass."

"Well, sir, you _did_ ask if I would like to come up and demonstrate." Pause. "I don't much like to."

There is some surprised guffawing amongst the rest of the class.

"Then you'll be serving detention tonight," he snaps.

The bell rings and Theodore remains seated for a second too long. He quickly gathers his belongings and he can't look at her. _Why did she_ –

He exhales sharply from his nose and leaves the classroom, feeling vaguely nauseous.

**

He has to force himself to walk directly to the Slytherin common room after his detention and make no detours.

**

Theodore has been reading in the common room for an hour when Daphne comes in.

It's obvious she's been crying and her mouth is cherry red, like she's been biting it for a while.

"Theodore?" Her voice is hoarse.

She's holding the back of her right hand. 

He's never felt fury before.

"Let me," he says abruptly, getting to his feet and closing his book, not paying mind to mark his place. 

They meet in the middle and his wand is already out, muttering healing spell after healing spell until the words _I will follow orders_ are faded to nothing.

She sniffles. "Thanks," she says quietly.

He swallows. "You shouldn't have done that today."

Her gaze bores into him. "I will do what I want, Nott. Same as you."

He much prefers her calling him by his first name. 

He's still holding her hand. He runs a thumb over where the words were bloody and carved into her skin. "Regardless, you should be careful."

Her expression softens. "There's my sister to think about," she allows.

He slowly lets go of her hand. "Let me know if the pain returns."

"I'm sure it won't. You're remarkable with healing charms."

"They're simple," he says dismissively.

She smiles. "Goodnight, Theodore."

"Goodnight, Daphne."

**

Whenever there is a Hogsmeade trip, students disappear with families; less always come back.

It's snowing on Valentine's Day and most of his peers have paired up, so he has no interest in going whatsoever. Besides, Tomes and Scrolls is half empty and he doesn’t care for searching through such a sparse collection.

But he's suffocating within Hogwarts' walls.

It's snowing lightly, but he doesn't mind walking outside. He doesn't know why, but he's beginning to see what his mother saw in the snow, in winter.

It becomes clearer when he sees Daphne walking alone, heading towards the castle. Her cheeks are bright pink and her hat is speckled with snow. She blinks in surprise when she catches his gaze, which hasn't strayed.

"Hi, Theodore," she says, slightly out of breath. "I was just working on our Herbology homework. Some plants needed to be dug out. What are you doing?"

He swallows. "Planning on a walk."

"Oh. Would you…like company?"

He's never had a problem in his life telling anyone _no_ , but lately, she’s been making it more difficult. "Alright," he says.

She doesn't say anything as they walk toward the Forbidden Forest. He considers things for them to talk about: classes, assignments, whatever miscellaneous drama that is still managing to happen despite the morose mood that constantly festers nowadays.

But eventually he lets his mind focus on other things. Like the way the trees are holding the snow and the way Daphne's dark hair whips in the wind behind her.

"So, why aren't you in Hogsmeade?" she eventually asks.

"Our peers are particularly unbearable on Valentine's Day," he admits. She smiles amusedly before he asks, "And why aren't you? Besides completing Herbology assignments that could've waited."

The smile on her face fades a little. "Astoria is sick. I don't want us to be separated."

He nods, focusing on their feet making their way into the Forbidden Forest. 

"Who's with her now?"

"Her friends that I trust."

"What about Davis?"

She gives him a funny look. "She's seeing Parrish from Ravenclaw." Then she smiles. "You really didn't know?"

He clears his throat. "Affairs of the school bore me."

"Of course," she says, shaking her head and still smiling.

He hopes his face isn't too red.

He doesn't know if Daphne has had dates or even boyfriends during their time at Hogwarts. He knows enough that if she did, it wasn't anyone in Slytherin since hiding a relationship among housemates is near impossible. But she comes from a pureblood family. Sure, her mother is of Japanese descent and Greengrass married outside of the twenty-eight families, but they're still traditionalists.

He figures he doesn't have a place in mind to walk until he recognizes the darkness of this part of the forest from Care of Magical Creatures class during fifth year.

He stops near the paddock.

After a few moments of silence, Daphne asks, "Why have we stopped?"

He fiercely hopes she'll never get to see how horrendous they look.

"They're called Thestrals," he explains. "They're only visible to those who have seen death."

Her eyes widen in recognition. "I heard about that class. "You, Potter, and Longbottom were the only ones who could see them."

He grimaces.

"Are they really supposed to be that grotesque?"

One of the Thestrals looks over at them. "They're…discontenting."

The Thestral walks over to the fence. Theodore takes a step toward it, admittedly curious.

"Theodore?"

He reaches a hand out slowly, awkwardly patting its head. It closes its eyes and makes a clicking noise.

"They're not so bad, actually," he says, unable to take his eyes off of them.

"Theodore."

Finally, after a few moments, he looks to her. She appears hesitant.

"Yes, I watched my mother die," he answers her unasked question.

She blinks and looks away, eyes glassy. After a minute her mouth parts a little.

"Don't ask."

She purses her lips closed, her eyes giving everything away.

He drops his hand and turns to face her.

"How would you feel about restarting the enterprise? This time, we'll be more organized," he says.

Her mouth is a rosy pink.

She stares at the Thestrals, eyes unseeing. "I have some ideas."

They walk back to the castle and discuss.

**

Although he finds Hermione Granger to be insufferable and enjoys not having her in all his N.E.W.T.-level classes, he's going to take a page from her book and have people sign a jinxed contract. Except if someone snitches on him, they'll be wishing they had Marietta Edgecombe's facial scars.

Daphne raises her eyebrows at him. "I suppose you won't tell me?"

"It's not your concern – you're not signing it," he says, taking the roll of parchment back.

She blinks in surprise. "I'm not?"

"Of course not," he answers as he conceals the parchment in his bag. "This extends to you as well."

"Oh." She tucks her bottom lip into her mouth and looks away for a moment. He flushes a little. "Well, thank you. I appreciate that."

He gives a short nod. "I suppose given that you…interact with our peers on a regular basis, you'll be able to procure signatures without suspicion?"

She smiles. "Yes. Give me a few days to manage all the Houses." She furrows her brow. "You know, we're going to need outside reassurance. That this isn't a trap to get people into trouble."

He raises an eyebrow.

"We'll have to get Longbottom to support it," she says in a low voice. "They all trust him."

He grimaces.

"I could talk about it with him in Herbology. The class is already quite small, as you know – it won't be odd."

He doesn't like it, doesn't like the thought of anyone considering her to be important. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure. Honestly."

She holds out her hand.

He chews on the inside of his cheek and meets her steady gaze. "Alright," he says softly, going back into his bag and grabbing the parchment. He places it in her hand. "My next order is arriving sometime this week. It's being sent to you in the disguise of beauty products. You're trying monthly samples."

She puts the parchment away and wordlessly seals her bag with a charm. "Clever."

"Are you surprised?"

She smirks. "No. Still impressive all the same."

Is this what flirting is? It's making him hot in the collar and he's not sure if he likes this or not. "We can't be too careful."

She nods. "But…why do you want to do this? I know I originally forced you and it spiraled, but…you got your way out of it."

He's still wondering it himself, but he does know one thing that he's absolutely sure of. "I don't like _anyone_ putting limitations on what I can do with my life."

**

Theodore is in the library during his free period on Wednesday afternoon when Longbottom takes the seat across from him.

Theodore lazily looks up when Longbottom doesn't say anything after a minute.

"You're serious," Longbottom states rather than questions.

Theodore doesn't say anything.

"Why? What side are you playing at?"

"This isn't about _sides_."

"Of course it is," Longbottom hisses. "It's pretty black and white."

" _No_ , this is about my not liking rules that encroach on what I do with my time. This is about profiting. The question is, do you want to make something of it for yourself?"

Longbottom has a disgusted expression on his face. "You're unbelievable." He shakes his head. "So, let me guess – _sneak_ gets plastered on your face if you do?"

"Child's play," Theodore responds. "I suggest not letting anyone who is a first or second year be involved."

"I don't think anyone under fifth should be on this."

"I don't bloody care who signs it or not. If it makes you feel better, then impose an age requirement. But for the record, I think third years are clear on where they stand."

"Oh yeah? And what about _you_?"

Theodore gathers his belongings. "Once you've collected everyone, give it to Daphne Greengrass in Herbology or Charms. I'm working on a contact method."

"Let me guess – _coins_?"

Theodore ignores him and leaves the library.

**

He doesn't use _coins_ – it's not nearly sophisticated enough for what's required. Instead, he offers modified planners that the school offers to students. Not something that anyone would think twice about.

"This is brilliant magic," Daphne says with a pleased grin. "Granger can stuff it."

He smirks a little. "Still, be careful. Use it regularly."

She nods. "I suppose you've already made what we need?"

He wordlessly hands over a stack of planners for all the Houses.

**

Theodore makes quite a small fortune. It seems his peers don't agree with the limitations placed upon them either. While he's sure a handful of them are desperate to use it as a way to rebel against the Dark Lord and use is a means of morality. It's none of his concern. Besides, what he has earned is going towards something he'll need.

**

Theodore is one of the last people to leave Transfiguration since he spends the last two minutes of class working a new schedule of lending and payment, so he can hear clearly when Professor McGonagall says quietly, "Nott, would you mind remaining here for a moment?"

Daphne turns to look at him briefly before stepping into the corridor and out of sight.

He gathers his belongings and packs his satchel before meeting her at the front of the classroom. "Yes, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall glances past Theodore to the open door of the classroom. With a flick of her wrist, the door shuts.

His hand grips his wand in his pocket and he keeps his back straight.

"You'll need modify your schedule for the next two weeks. Death Eaters will be doing random searches on all students," Professor McGonagall says, going back to writing.

Theodore's eye twitches in annoyance. Which _brainless oaf_ – 

"I beg your pardon?"

She looks up at him. "Your system is quite well thought-out. But you're putting yourself and other students at risk."

"They knew what they signed up for."

She narrows her eyes at him.

"And I already know about the searches," Theodore adds dismissively. "Now, may I ask who told you?"

It would save him the trouble of searching for the disfigured _moron_.

"You'd have poor luck searching for a disfigured student. He didn't say anything."

He exhales sharply. "Longbottom. How did he find a way around it?"

"You're going to need a professor in your loop in order to prevent what happened in January." Pause. "He animated cut out parchment dolls. Simple, but effective. You shouldn't be underestimating the intelligence of your peers, Nott."

"No, I simply underestimated their _recklessness_."

The corner of her mouth twitches. "As the expression goes, the pot is calling the kettle black." Professor McGonagall picks up a few pieces of parchment and hands it to him. "There may be some surprises in there."

Theodore nods, quickly hiding the parchment away.

"I trust you can keep your temper in check and _not_ retaliate against Longbottom?"

"Of course, Professor."

**

(There are some security checks he didn't account for, but he will _never_ acknowledge that.)

**

Theodore gets his moment of retaliation a few days later at Dark Arts when Longbottom is the guinea pig once more. Theodore volunteers and hexes him until Longbottom's legs can't hold him up.

"Your talent is truly astounding," Carrow says with an amused smirk. "Escort him to the Infirmary. Fifteen points to Slytherin. Go on."

Theodore grabs Longbottom by the collar of his robe and roughly gets him out of the dungeon. Once they're a safe distance away, Theodore says, "You're a reckless idiot."

"You're _welcome_ , you prick," Longbottom says in between pants. "Helpful, wasn't it?"

Theodore doesn't answer him.

**

Frankly, Theodore doesn't want to go home for Easter, but there are some things he needs to collect.

**

He doesn't have to wait long for his father to let him know that he has a mission to do for the Dark Lord and will be gone for a few days.

Once Theodore is certain he isn't being watched by the house-elves, he goes into his mother's tower and switches old books for new ones to smuggle into Hogwarts based on requests. He also takes his favorites with him, with a sinking feeling in his gut knowing he most certainly won't be coming back.

He's not a sentimental person, but it still takes him too long to leave the tower, unwilling to part from the last traces of his mother.

**

"I'm going to in Diagon Alley today, do you need anything while I'm there?" Theodore asks, while sharing breakfast with his father.

"No, I'm quite alright, thank you."

Theodore nods, getting back to his food.

"I regret not having the time to talk to you this week. Things have been rather…difficult. How are your classes going?"

Theodore wonders what has happened, but he won't question his father. "Well. Top marks. I'm spending an increasing amount of time studying for my N.E.W.T.s."

"Excellent. I've heard from the Carrows that you're still their top student."

Theodore nods again.

"What are you gathering from Diagon Alley?"

"Restocking some supplies. Parchment, quills, ink. I'm also contemplating on a second cauldron so I can practice other potions in what little free time I have."

His father nods. "Alright. I won't be home for dinner, but you'll see to yourself."

"Alright."

Theodore hopes he can miss his father for the rest of his stay home.

**

Diagon Alley is a shadow of what it used to be.

As much as he dislikes crowds, he finds Diagon Alley's emptiness rather eerie.

Theodore shops for what he needs, wasting no time lingering. On his way to Gringotts, he's surprised to see Malfoy standing outside Ollivander's.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy looks up, eyes ringed and his face gaunt. He looks ill.

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy does a poor job of keeping his emotions in check. "I thought I'd be able to…to get in. But I can't. There's a barrier."

Theodore glances at the abandoned shop. "Are you in need of a new wand?"

Malfoy's eyes narrow. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

Malfoy shakes his head and stares at the store front. "We had him – Potter. All of them – at our Manor. They got away."

Theodore blinks in surprise, but doesn't say anything.

"Potter took my wand," Malfoy admits through gritted teeth. "Granger and Weasley got Bellatrix's and Pettigrew's wands. They escaped with Ollivander and Lovegood." Malfoy shakes his head in disgust. "I can't _believe_ my old _house-elf_ got them out, but he's certainly dead. Good riddance."

Theodore has a surprisingly hard time to keeping his expression neutral. "The Dark Lord must not be pleased."

Malfoy flinches.

"Will you be returning to finish the term?"

"I don't know. We'll see." Malfoy looks at him with a sharp gaze. "In case you're concerned, I won't say anything about your little side business. It's not worth any attention." He exhales in amusement. "I have to say, I never would've guessed your consorting with Daphne Greengrass of all people. Not as pretty as her sister, but she's something exotic, I suppose."

Theodore has only ever felt the desire for violence against his father. He hides his curled fist behind his back.

"Your discretion is appreciated all the same. I wish you luck in procuring a new wand. I must be off. Goodbye, Malfoy."

Theodore doesn't stay to hear Malfoy respond.

**

When he goes to Gringotts, he uses over half of what he's made in his enterprise to silence the goblins and create a new vault for himself and to transfer his savings to it slowly.

A precaution.

**

(He still wants to curse Malfoy until he's unable to _speak_.)

**

(Once he's in his room, he allows himself to feel a small amount of relief.)

**

Theodore is reading ahead for Potions on the Hogwarts Express when Daphne enters, smiling and laughing with her sister.

"Oh! Sorry, Theodore," Daphne says, flushing a little. "We'll leave you be."

"No, it's quite alright. You can stay. I'm going to sit with my friends," Astoria says with a pleased expression.

"I don't want you far from me," Daphne says in a quiet voice.

"I'll be two compartments down. I promise," Astoria responds, this time serious.

Daphne bites her bottom lip.

"I'll see you!" Astoria says before Daphne can respond, not bothering to say anything to Theodore as she leaves them alone.

The silence is unbearable.

"You can sit down," Theodore says, trying to sound even-toned as he gestures to the seat across from him. "Unless you'd –"

"Sure, thank you," Daphne says over him, smiling briefly as she sits down. "I just – I'm worried about my sister. My family," she admits.

Theodore doesn't know what that's like. It sounds like it's a burden. He goes back to his book.

"To be honest, my family wasn't sure about us going back," she continues.

He stops read and lifts his gaze. She stares back, urging him to understand.

"Don't share anything with me. With anyone," he tells her. "If…circumstances change."

She nods, resting back and looking out the window. "How was your holiday?"

"Interesting."

Her eyes move to glance at him. "How so?"

"Apparently Potter and his band of misfits escaped capture at Malfoy Manor."

Daphne turns her head to properly face him. "Surprising."

"I'm sure there was dumb luck involved."

"Certainly." Pause. "How did you find out about this? Your father?"

Theodore exhales in amusement. "No. I bumped into Malfoy in Diagon Alley." He can't help the way his lip curls briefly at the memory.

"Wasn't a pleasant run-in, I take it."

He purses his mouth. "Not particularly, I suppose."

"Why, what else did he say?"

"He knows of our…enterprise. But he says he won't speak of it to anyone. Said it wasn't his concern."

She sighs in relief. "Well, that's alright, yes?"

"It's nothing important. Silly, really."

"It can't be silly if it bothers you."

"He…just made unwelcome comments."

"About what?"

Theodore doesn't say anything.

Her eyebrows rise. "Me?" she guesses.

He looks pointedly out the window.

"Theodore," she says in a way that urges him to look at her. "I'm sure it was something I've heard before."

He clenches his jaw for a moment.

"I know what they say," she continues softly. "That I'm not as pretty as my sister. My eyes aren't…as wide as hers. That my sister and I aren't _truly_ of pure blood." Her eyes are hard. "I've heard it all," she finishes.

He exhales sharply. "They're wrong. About you," he admits, even though he wishes he could take it back.

She stares at him for a few long, painful moments before she smiles. "Thank you," she only says.

**

The train coasts to a stop and with a panicked expression, Daphne immediately leaves to join her sister.

He's admittedly a little surprised when his father enters his compartment.

"Hello, Theodore. We're completing inspections. I'm assuming you're not repeating the mistake you made at the beginning of the year?"

"I only have two books for my consumption," Theodore responds, pulling out two of the fifteen he's smuggling onto Hogwarts grounds.

"That's fine," his father responds quietly. "Keep it properly hidden. We'll be conducting more searches."

Theodore nods and bids his father goodbye. Once the compartment door is closed, Theodore has to force himself to remain where he is.

**

The mass exodus from the train is slow, but Theodore makes his way through the crowd and ends up near Daphne. He taps her wrist.

Her profile stuns him a little. "I'm fine," she murmurs.

He exhales slowly.

To his surprise, her hand searches for his and squeezes it in reassurance. It's brief, but it's like his body was engulfed in flames and he's still singed, sensitive and ready to catch fire again.

He loathes it; he needs to get away from it.

(It's sick how he wants more.)

**

The Weasley girl has not returned to Hogwarts after the holidays.

He supposes there will be a lot less graffiti on the walls now.

**

He's close to mania as he alters and re-alters the network, changing payments and book swaps minutes before searches and there are so many close calls he reads about that he loses sleep.

 _This can't continue_ , Daphne's handwriting appears on the corner of his parchment. _You haven't stopped since we got back. It's too risky now._

He chews on the inside of his cheek – a bloody awful habit that he needs to stop.

 _We still have two months left of school_ , he writes, the ink disappearing. They still have half of April and all of May before their exams and then –

_It's not worth the risk. Two fourth year Slytherin girls nearly got caught._

He exhales softly, chancing a glance across the classroom at Daphne. She meets his gaze and then focuses back on Flitwick, and then back at her parchment.

_I can let NL know after lunch. We can start collecting everything back. Receive final payments._

He shuts his eyes briefly and writes back: _Get everything back within the week._

**

Professor Slughorn informs the class that everyone must go to the Greenhouse Three in order to harvest a particular plant for a potion they're making in their next class. Theodore goes at the end of his free period before dinner.

He's surprised to find Longbottom alone in the greenhouse, murmuring a spell at a pot of soil. Longbottom's eyes flicker up at the intrusion, then focus back on the plant.

Theodore doesn't say a word and goes straight to where he last saw the root he needs, but furrows his brow when he finds Fanged Geranium instead.

"We moved the Fluxweed towards the east window. They weren't getting enough light," Longbottom says.

Theodore wordlessly turns on his heel and walks over to the window, finding the plant. He's slipping on his dragon-hide gloves when Longbottom says, "I returned half. I'll get what's left in two days. You should have everything by the weekend."

"Alright." Theodore takes out his trowel.

"I wouldn't – I'd dig it out with your hands," Longbottom says, briefly craning his neck to look at him. "Without gloves. They'll come out slowly, but the seeds won't be damaged when you use them."

Theodore narrows his eyes, but slowly puts his trowel back and takes off his gloves.

"I know you have your…whatever sort of reasons for what you did, and I know you don't care about me much at all, but…thanks. We actually managed to learn something this year."

Theodore gently digs through the soil, following the roots of the plant and carefully separating it from the earth.

"It's funny – I was so sure you'd be like Malfoy and become a Death Eater, but now…I just think you'd make a terrible one."

Theodore stops digging and looks over at Longbottom. "What makes you say that?"

Longbottom raises his eyebrows at him. "You're a terrible follower."

Theodore focuses back on the plant as his mouth twitches.

"You also hate this as much as we do. I just hope when it matters, you'll pick the right side."

There is no right side. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are fanatics with no plan to sustain themselves for years to come – they'll extinct the wizard population within the next two generations. The other side is led by a teenage boy and the ghost of a foolish old man who underestimated those under him, which got him killed.

There's only one side he wants to be on, that he trusts, and that's his own.

Finally, Theodore has removed plant and keeps it in a vial. He eyes his hands in disgust and dusts them off as best he can before reaching into his pocket and taking out a book disguised as a Gobstone. He places it besides Longbottom's notes.

"In case you ever manage to see Lovegood again. She's the only one that cared about this one."

Longbottom blinks in surprise. "You know…" he starts slowly. "She's safe. In case you didn't know."

"I've heard," Theodore responds tersely. "Goodbye, Longbottom."

Longbottom purses his mouth for a moment. "Take care, Nott."

**

Daphne returns his books as a transfigured chess set in the early hours of the morning. His fingers run over the queen and he smiles briefly. "Well done."

She smiles tiredly. "I'll gain the rest in Charms on Friday. And that will be that."

He puts the piece back in the drawstring bag. "Yes, it will be."

She has circles under her eyes. "Theodore."

He meets her gaze reluctantly.

"You can't," she starts softly. "You hate this."

"It's about staying alive," he responds, slipping the back into his robes.

"You're fooling yourself if you think becoming one of them will allow you to live your life."

"And you think I should bet my hand on Potter and his clueless friends?" Theodore snorts. "That's foolish."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean, Daphne?" he asks sharply.

"You know what I mean. I know that you haven't been _waiting_ all this time, staying in school, just so you could take your N.E.W.T.s and finish and commit yourself as a Death Eater. You were _buying time_ , trying to find a way out of this," she hisses, reaching over for his forearm. She squeezes tightly and it's like she has a hand around his throat instead. "Don't."

"And what do you suppose I should do instead?" he asks.

"I don't know, I'm sure you have a plan or two up your sleeve."

They stare at each other for a few long moments. He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

"Don't say anything if you're going to lie to me." She lets go of him.

There are things he wants to say that he can't. That the thought of marring his skin with a Dark Mark makes him sick to his stomach, that he has nightmares of the masks the Death Eaters wear, that his mother haunts his thoughts, that he sneaks glances at Daphne and thinks maybe he wants, needs to connect in a way he never thought he did before.

But he falters and he simply can't.

She gives him a pained smile, eyes glassy. "Goodnight, Theodore."

She leaves him in the common room and he shuts his eyes in pained relief.

**

(When Theodore was eight years old, he watched his mother die. She crumpled to the ground – head first – because of a blow to the chest from a red spell. Blood pools under her head like a hellish halo and her pale blue eyes lose their inherent shine.

Numbly, he goes back to his room and sits on his bed until his father comes in to tell his lie.)

**

It feels like the beginning of the school year again – the monotony, the mind-numbing boredom. Except he has over three-dozen contraband books that were circulated throughout Hogwarts hidden under his bed; he catches Longbottom's gaze and doesn't feel deep-seated hatred like he used to; Daphne shines in his peripheral.

**

As days go by, it seems students are regularly disappearing. Notably Longbottom and other students Theodore figures are members of Dumbledore's Army.

Transfiguration consists of him, Daphne, Zabini and Davis by the end of the week. McGonagall is distracted and can barely get through her lesson plan.

He looks over at Daphne and sees she's already looking at him, concerned.

**

Headmaster Snape and the Carrows are searching for the missing students, but are having no luck, at least until Parkinson mentions the Room of Requirement, something that Theodore is curious about, but resigns himself to knowing that he'll never get to see it. They spend half the day trying to find a way to get in.

**

"Something's going to happen," Zabini says. The Great Hall is nearly empty, save for those in Slytherin and a few Ravenclaws.

Daphne hasn't eaten properly in days. She's constantly by her sister.

Theodore can't deny that it may be all coming to a breaking point.

**

On May first, there's a rumor that Harry Potter has broken into Gringotts and escaped on the back of a dragon.

It comes in the form of whispers, then conversations, then chants. There is borderline anarchy in the Great Hall.

Theodore's feet drive him back the common room, mind blank save for a constant buzzing noise that grows louder with the increased pounding of his heart. He's nearly hyperventilating as he makes it to his bed, drawing the curtains and taking out parchment, quill, and ink, and he writes.

His penmanship is shaky and terrible, but towards the end, he finds a steadiness, signing his name and sealing the letter closed, sticking it to the underside of his bed. He grabs his things and leaves.

**

Theodore is still dressed and resting on his bed when Professor Slughorn orders everyone out of bed and into the Great Hall, announcing that Hogwarts will soon be under attack by the Dark Lord and his followers.

Theodore finds Daphne on the way to the Great Hall. She's one of the few people like himself who are still dressed.

"What's going on – they're saying Potter's here and – and the Dark Lord –" Daphne asks, desperate. She's holding onto Astoria for dear life.

"Keep your head down and don't say anything," Theodore tells them both. "Don't attract attention."

He guides Daphne to the side and keeps them close to the main exit. 

"I knew we shouldn't have come back," Astoria whispers fearfully. "We should've left."

Daphne shushes her and whips her eyes around the Hall, focused and alert.

Professor McGonagall takes charge, detailing evacuations lead by prefects, Madame Pomfrey, and Filch. That those of age can remain and fight.

When he hears the Dark Lord speak for the first time, Theodore truly understands fear. The words echo in his ear and Theodore wants to be deaf, to never hear anything again if he can avoid it.

" _Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight._ "

Hogwarts has never remained untouched – it's already been ruined.

Theodore must admit, he didn't think Parkinson would stand up and scream for someone to grab Potter, but he understands. Just as he understands and expects members of the other three Houses to stand up against her, wands drawn and ready.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," says Professor McGonagall. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."

And he understands and expects all members of his House to stand up and leave the Great Hall.

**

The corridors are filled with prefects leading underage Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors to the evacuation point.

Well, at least he's pleased to be wrong about never seeing the Room of Requirement for himself.

Slytherin students are directed to enter the portrait first, a strange blonde-haired little girl walking back and forth through a dark tunnel. Theodore immediately notices that the morons Crabbe and Goyle aren't in here, and neither is Malfoy, for that matter. Unsurprising – they may be trying to fight for the Dark Lord within the castle walls, although Theodore isn't sure how they'll survive. Malfoy, maybe. The other two? It's almost worth laughing about.

"Go, Astoria, I'll be right behind you," Daphne insists, urging her forward.

Astoria's bottom lip quivers, but she climbs into the portrait.

He watches Daphne drink in everything, hesitate before eventually staring ahead, taking the portrait girl's hand. The knot in Theodore's chest eases a little, knowing she's now safe.

"Here she comes," Professor Slughorn says. "In you go, Theodore."

Theodore hasn't spoken to Professor Slughorn at all, but knows he was friendly with his father before his father was thrown in Azkaban. And that Professor Slughorn likes to pretend that it never happened at all. Theodore could've been a wretched member of the Slug Club, but he and every other Slytherin carries the sins of their forefathers.

Theodore enters the portrait and the young girl holds his hand through the tunnel. Her skin is flaky and she emits no warmth or chill.

The light becomes bigger and brighter and he's surprised to find himself at the Hog's Head Inn. Once he steps down, Daphne is by his side. 

"You should leave. You can Apparate from here," Theodore says, finding no barriers the moment he stepped through.

She bites her bottom lip. "I want to, but…" She looks around the inn, at the first years sitting in the corners, crying, the older students trying to comfort them while holding back their own emotions. "They're our housemates." She narrows her eyes. "We can't abandon them when everyone else has," she spits, glaring at the portrait where Ravenclaws are coming out.

Word must be getting out that a battle is happening at Hogwarts. Surely families will be trying to take their children away –

"I can't _believe_ this," an old man mutters under his breath, clearing tables and urging students to move away from the portrait so more people can get through. He pauses when passing Theodore, bright blue eyes boring into his.

Theodore knew that Dumbledore's loser brother owned this inn, but he didn't expect their eyes to be so very similar.

Dumbledore's brother snorts and goes back to his mutterings.

At one point, Professor Slughorn comes through the portrait, but he's quick to leave the inn and disappear into the night. Coward.

Astoria squeezes Daphne's arm before going to the corner where her friends are, leaving them alone.

"Maybe we should Apparate everyone," Daphne suggests, already counting all the Slytherins. "Bring them to London and wait to see how this goes."

He supposes it can be done, although as more and more students enter the inn, space getting tighter and louder, he realizes with a dejected annoyance that it would be playing into the ugly traits everyone assumes all Slytherin students have, including the eleven year olds, shaking and crying, wanting to go home.

It doesn't sit well with him to do that, however, he has no reservations about leaving himself. The board is set – all the pieces are in place and all he has to do is leave. It's so easy, he's imagined it so much that it's almost like he's already done it in several lifetimes…

He glances back at the portrait, the number of students leaving it decreasing. It seems as if the girl in the portrait meets his gaze, eyes sad, but understanding.

"Theodore?"

He blinks and looks back at Daphne. For all his scheming, he never accounted that he'd miss anyone he would leave behind.

"Surprisingly, it's been a pleasure and an honor," he tells her honestly.

A flicker of confusion gives way to fear. "What –"

He takes a step closer. "You're right, I wasn't biding my time," he continues quietly, even though it's impossible for anyone to overhear over the panicked chatter. "If you're ever presented the opportunity to return to Hogwarts – I have books under my bed. You're free to have them."

Her eyes are glassy, but she's listening intently. "Alright," she whispers. "I will."

"There's a letter," he adds, their faces so close that he wants to bring a hand to her cheek, but both arms remain on his sides, one of his hands gripping his wand. She reaches out to grab his shirt and her warm hands sear through clothes.

He swallows. "Goodbye, Daphne."

He's so sure that tears will fall, but her voice is steady when she says, "Goodbye, Theodore."

He stares at her, memorizing, before turning and weaving his way through the growing crowd.

"I know that look, boy," Dumbledore's brother growls by his side. "Revenge won't help you."

Theodore only spares him a glance. "Yes, it will."

The girl is waiting to lead him back to Hogwarts.

**

A well executed Disillusionment Charm, carefully sneaking past the backs of the Weasley girl, a woman with pink hair – a distant Black relative, if his memories of the twenty-eight family trees are accurate – and an old woman, who, on first glance, remarkably resembles Longbottom.

The fight is well underway, the defense failing. He needs to find out where his father is, but he has no idea where to start. Instead, he searches for prominent Order of the Phoenix members, hoping to overhear anything.

While running through the castle, he spots Lovegood dueling with Selwyn. He lifts his wand and mutters a hex that immediately knocks him unconscious. Luna blinks in surprise, staring at the body before looking up, unnervingly meeting his gaze.

Slowly, she smiles.

He leaves her in the corridor and continues searching.

**

It's quite unexpected when he does find his father on the ground floor. He drops the Disillusionment Charm.

"There you are," his father says, a jubilant smile on his face, dropping his wand. A fatal mistake. "Come – we're heading towards the east corridor of the Great Hall," he continues, already walking away, expecting Theodore to follow.

It only takes him a few steps to realize that Theodore has remained where he's standing.

He's thought about this moment for so long, so many times, but being in it now, it's almost disappointing, how he feels nothing.

"Theodore? We don't have time!"

"No, I suppose we don't."

Theodore looks at his father's face, grateful that this will be the last time.

"I saw you kill my mother. Unfortunately, you lost whatever hold you may have had on me when you did," Theodore says, looking down at his wand. He gives his father a few seconds, looks up, and sees the moment he realizes. That is satisfying. " _Avada Kedavra_ ," Theodore says clearly, pointing his wand.

Like a marionette, the strings are cut and he drops to the ground.

Theodore exhales and feels like dead weights have been lifted from his body and he could float away at any moment. But a large crash into the magical barrier interrupts his thoughts and he's quick to put back on the Disillusionment Charm and leave the school.

There's a point where he stands outside the castle, debating on going back to the portrait, back to the inn, but he can't – he can't face her, he can't look back. He's made his choice, and now he has to live with it. There are more things he has to do before it's over.

**

It's a process: once he's able to Disapparate, he goes to London, to a magic shop outside of Diagon Alley by the Thames River. From there, he has a Portkey, which takes him to just outside of Reykjavík. It's a six-kilometer hike to his new home.

It's odd, seeing it in person for the first time. 

His house-elf, Gilly, he believes her name is, opens the door and greets him. She's gotten a little bigger since the holidays, when he first purchased her.

"Master Nott! Welcome!" she greets with a bow.

His father would ignore her and go about his business, maybe ordering her to make tea. But he stops in front of Gilly and says, "Thank you."

She preens.

He walks inside. The fire is lit and there's tea boiling on the stove. He wonders how many nights she's been doing this, waiting for him to arrive.

Finally, it sinks in that this is over, he's made it, and he _laughs_.

"Master Nott?" Gilly asks, nervous.

After all that, he didn't even get to take his _fucking_ N.E.W.T.s. 

He laughs until there's nothing left in him and the tears on his face have dried.

**

Imagining a future where he wouldn't be bothered by the likes of his father, the looming threat of becoming a Death Eater, bending to the laws of the Ministry, almost seemed like a pipe dream. But living it is harder than he expected in some ways – getting used to the constant silence when he was somewhat comforted by the bustle of Hogwarts, the only other place he considered somewhat freeing. But in other ways, it truly transcends his expectations.

And for over a year, he finally understands peace.

**

Theodore is walking along a black sand beach in the south of Iceland, two hours away from Reykjavík, hoping to collect the right seaweed for the potion he's working on when he sees a figure coming from the opposite direction, her straggly blonde hair flying in the wind. When she gets closer, he stops in his tracks.

The large, pink glasses reflect in the sunlight, nearly blinding him, but it's unmistakable.

He should Disapparate, before she recognizes him, but he remains where he stands, watching her take the glasses off and smiling.

"Hello there," she greets him from a few meters away.

He swallows and they walk towards each other until they're a few feet apart.

"People are looking for you," she informs him unnecessarily.

He nods. "What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice a little hoarse. He hasn't spoken to anyone in about a week.

"Oh, I'm looking for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Although I'm starting to suspect that my father made them up. But I'm also looking for a particular little thing that lives on the coasts of secluded beaches and likes to trip people. I've read that some swam from Scotland to Iceland." She tilts her head to the side. Her smile hasn't left her face. "Why Iceland?"

He looks out at the ocean. "My mother came here on holiday once when she was a girl."

"That's nice."

He clenches his jaw, turning to look at the waves crashing against the shore.

"Thank you for Stunning that Death Eater."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responds automatically.

She grins. "I'm pleased to see you're doing alright."

He doesn't say anything, but he understands the sentiment.

She sighs, looking around. "It's a really beautiful country. The people are lovely. I like how the sun is out for so many hours of the day. It's been rather difficult falling asleep, though."

"You adjust."

"Yes, I suppose so." 

She suddenly shudders and he glances down at her feet, surprised to find them bare.

"It's not nearly warm enough to warrant going barefoot, Lovegood," he points out. July in Iceland usually averages around fourteen degrees with some occasional hot days. He sometimes misses the heat, but it's a fleeting thought. "You can warm up at my place," he offers without putting much thought into it.

"That's kind of you. You can _Obliviate_ me afterwards if you'd like."

"I don't think that's necessary." He holds out his arm for her to take. Once she grips tightly, he Disapparates them, landing about a kilometer away.

The walk is silent. He hasn't interacted with many people over the last year – he frequents a local pub every once in awhile where he purchases necessary ingredients for his experiments. Occasionally he'll help lost tourists, but that's only if he's in a decent mood. He primarily spends time by himself – reading, experimenting, walking. Sometimes he'll turn on his radio and listen to what's happening back in England, but lately things have seemed to settle.

"Oh, this is very nice," Lovegood says.

Gilly seems to have taken his offers for her to do what she wished to heart and isn't here – she'll return before dinner.

"I see you've rebuilt it more than once," Lovegood points out.

"I may have had a few mishaps."

She beams. "My mum used to say that."

He has to use blood magic to enter the house and disarm traps before letting Lovegood enter. 

"Tea?" he asks as he shuts the door behind her.

"Yes, please."

He charms the teakettle and as that is boiling, he rummages in his cupboards for some Quintin Black. He pours himself a tumbler wordlessly offers a glass to Lovegood, who surprisingly nods her head.

They sip their drinks as they wait for the tea.

"Have you been following what's been happening?" she inquires, nodding at the radio in the corner.

"I was. Not lately, though."

She nods. "There's not many loose ends besides you," she says. "They searched for you for a while. I told them not to, but they wouldn't listen."

He shakes his head. "You didn't have to."

"I know."

He brings the drink to his mouth, taking a long sip.

"Are you getting the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Not regularly, no."

"Did you know that your house was set on fire?"

Theodore didn't know that. He hides a pleased smirk by drinking. Once he's composed himself, he asks, "When did that happen?"

"A few months ago, back in February. There are no suspects. They didn't use magic, which is rather odd."

Even though he tries not to think about it, there are instances where he misses Daphne so fiercely that it's like an unbearable ache in his ribs.

"Very odd," he agrees.

She smiles. "There was also an anonymous donation to Hogwarts' library. Most of the burned books have been replaced."

"Awfully generous."

"Yes, awfully so."

The kettle whistles and Theodore gets up, throws back the rest of his drink, and heads toward the stove. He pours their tea in silence, sending the mugs towards the table while carrying the rest of the bottle of Quintin Black with him.

"Everyone thinks Neville was in charge of the book system," she says, pushing her glass towards him for a refill. "He assumed you wouldn't claim responsibility for it."

"He has his moments of intelligence," Theodore allows as he pours her another drink.

"He's also given credit to Daphne, which is sweet."

He blinks in surprise.

Lovegood frowns, picking up the glass. "The Ministry has been…rather cruel towards Death Eaters' families. I think every Death Eater who hasn't been killed during the Battle is in Azkaban. Those who aided…were sympathizers…well…they're destitute. They were fined heavily. They have to report to the Ministry all the time. They're having trouble finding jobs." She looks up, her eyes soft and sad.

He takes a controlled sip of his tea, but in the end he abandons it and fills his glass half full. He tops her off without prompting.

"How," he starts, unable to ask the question. He takes a large drink of his scotch instead.

"How's Daphne?" she prompts, running a finger around the rim of her glass. "Last I heard, she had traveled to Japan with her family. She may have returned, but I don't know."

He smiles a little wistfully. "It's good they got away."

"I suppose." She takes a small sip of scotch. "If you want, I could try to find her."

Air freezes in his lungs.

"Or, do you not wish to see her?"

He stares at her, unwilling, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue?" she japes lightly. She picks up her glass and impressively throws it back in one go. "She looked for you. Afterwards. She seemed upset. But I told her that you helped me. And we found your father's body. So we assumed you left."

He inhales shakily. "I didn't want her to see that," he admits quietly.

"We all saw too much death that day," she points out. "At least it was someone who deserved it."

He blinks in surprise. "How –"

"I figured," she says dreamily.

He gives her an honest smile. "I believe you're cleverer than I assumed."

"Get that quite a bit, but I appreciate you admitting it."

He raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Where are you staying?"

"In Reykjavík. I've been traveling by foot."

" _Why_?"

"Observing. Iceland has some lovely creatures."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "Do you want to be taken back to Vík?"

"No, it's quite alright. Perhaps you can show me where I can Apparate?"

He nods, getting to his feet. "Do you need anything?"

She smiles. "No, thank you. You're very kind, Theodore."

"I'd put on shoes."

"Alright." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pair of trainers.

He doesn't have much, but he still packs her an apple and bottle of pumpkin juice.

She smiles and packs them in her bag. "I'm ready."

They head out the back door, walking through the terrain.

"If I were to find Daphne, where would you like to meet her?" she asks.

He doesn't respond for over a minute, debating. "There's a pub called the Abraxan's Choice."

"I don't suppose there will be a way to contact you?"

"I can have my owl reside at the nearby owlery. She'll recognize him."

"Alright."

They walk in silence the rest of the way until they're past the barrier.

She smiles at him. "It was grand to see you."

He exhales, looks away, and nods. "Where are you going after Iceland?"

"Japan, of course."

He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Her family is from Kyoto."

She nods. "That's helpful." She leans in and pecks him on the cheek. He doesn't know how to react to it, how it seems to be so easy for her. "Goodbye, Theodore Nott. Hopefully we'll see each other again soon."

He gives her a brief smile. "Goodbye, Luna Lovegood."

She Disapparates and Theodore stares at where she stood for a few moments before heading home.

**

And so he returns to his old routines. Except perhaps he frequents the pub a little more often, the young owner, Andrés, now recognizing him as Ted Storstrand, but Theodore is sure the man doesn't believe that's truly his name.

"You expecting someone?" Andrés asks.

"Perhaps."

"Well, if you want to come back Thursday, I have a man coming here from Venezuela. He's bringing back some herbs you may be interested in."

"Alright." Theodore reaches into his pocket and gives him three Galleons after he finishes his drink.

"Always a pleasure," Andrés drawls. "Hopefully your friend comes next time."

"We'll see."

**

The days get shorter and nights are colder. He travels to see the Northern Lights – they're otherworldly in a way that reminds him of his mother. He has no idea if she ever saw them, but he knew she'd like them.

He develops some spells. Nothing worth writing about, but he's working on a potion that may amount to something.

It's a couple of weeks before Halloween when he's walking along the coast of Vík during sunset when he stops a figure staring out at the water. There's a large bag by their feet and Theodore resigns himself to helping out a brainless tourist when he recognizes the pattern of the bag. He stops walking, his breathing shallow and unhelpful as he feels so dizzy he could faint.

She whips her head toward him, her black hair billowing behind her and she subtly reaches for her wand, but as he forces himself to walk toward her, her eyes widen and her mouth parts, her hand dropping to her side.

"I gave Luna instructions," he says once they're in hearing range. He considers Disapparating to the other side of the world out of sheer embarrassment.

She blinks. "She did. But she told me about this beach and I wanted to see it first."

He stops by her side, the bag between them on the sand. "I would've taken you," he says quietly.

She smiles. "Hello, Theodore."

Seeing her again is almost like a distant dream. "Daphne."

She swallows. "Are you alright?"

Baffled, he nods.

"Good. I was concerned."

"How are you?"

She gives him a bleak smile. "I'll need a drink for that one."

He holds out his arm.

"We can't," she says, nodding down at the bag on the ground. "That's rather heavy and too enchanted."

He furrows his brow, bending to grab it, surprised at the weight. It takes all the strength in his legs to get the strap over his shoulder. "What the bloody hell do you have in this?" he asks in surprise.

"Books. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. I didn't count."

"Oh," he exhales in understanding, suddenly incredibly grateful for its bruising weight.

She reaches into her pocket with a gloved hand and takes out a hairbrush and checks her watch. "The Portkey should activate in a minute or so."

"Risky, creating a Portkey, isn't it?"

She scowls briefly. "The Ministry can shove it."

He smiles and takes hold of the Portkey in time, bracing himself of being dragged forward by the stomach. They land in the field where Luna had kissed his cheek and Disapparated. 

He's a little woozy on his feet, but keeps his eyes shut and steadies his breathing. "I take it Luna made it for you?"

"Yes. I made the one that took me from London to the beach."

"London?"

"I still want that drink," she reminds him. "Which way?"

**

Theodore is practically dragging the bag including his mother's library through the doorway, where Gilly is absolutely _flustered_ at the notion of hosting someone other than Theodore.

"Master Theodore!"

"Gilly, this is Daphne. Could you pour us some spiced mead?" He looks to Daphne. "That alright?"

She nods. "Perfect."

"Yes, of course! Hello, Miss Daphne," Gilly says, bowing deeply.

"Hello, Gilly," Daphne greets, taking off her coat.

"Allow me!" Gilly takes her coat and his, puttering around.

He watches Daphne look around the house, turning a little on the spot. This is so far away from the home he lived in that he's almost embarrassed, but she smiles at him. "It's lovely."

"You don't have to be kind," he says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I know I don't," she responds, eyes landing on the nearby table and taking a seat, sighing. "I never guessed Iceland, when I thought about where you'd go," she suddenly says.

"Where did you think?"

She smiles in amusement, looking down at the table. "Ah, for a while, I thought maybe you were hiding under everyone's nose and were in London."

"I thought about doing that," he admits, taking a seat across from her. "But I wanted to remove myself. Didn't want to be looking over my shoulder so much."

Gilly comes back with two full goblets of spiced mead. Theodore nods in thanks and lifts his goblet.

"Cheers," Daphne says softly, lifting her goblet towards him.

He reaches across and clinks their goblets. They drink in silence.

"What other places have you entertained?" he asks.

She flushes a little. "I entertained that you came to Japan – Kyoto or Tokyo." She takes another drink. "But, I thought America too – with it being such a large country." She smiles. "As someone who is familiar with you, if I couldn't figure it out, then I doubt the Ministry will." She laughs a little. "Although, of course Luna Lovegood is the one to accidentally find you."

He snorts. "It's quite lucky she's a bit of an airhead. Where did she find you?"

"London, actually, we had just missed each other in Kyoto, apparently. I was interviewing for a few positions. Naturally wasn't called back," she finishes with a bitter expression. "My last name makes me an _undesirable_ candidate." She looks at him with sincerity. "Thank you, by the way, you didn't have to –"

"I know."

"I wouldn't have used any of it, but, my family – I was fined as well, being overage –"

He curls a hand into a fist under the table. "You didn't _do_ anything."

"The Ministry didn't see it that way. I just hope that with Astoria graduating in the spring, she'll have more luck than me."

"Ridiculous," he mutters under his breath.

"I'm going to change my name," she says with a sigh. "I'm going to assume my mother's maiden name. I can't stand being idle like this." She frowns apologetically. "I mean –"

"I understand," he cuts her off. 

They both drink.

"What have you been doing?" she asks.

"Experimenting, really," he answers, leaning back. "That's where I work," he gestures over her shoulder, where his cauldron is smoking. He'll need to check on it at midnight to see how it's thickening.

"Any successes?" she asks knowingly.

"Some. Mostly spells," he answers, finishing his drink. The warmth of the alcohol has settled into his limbs and he feels a little less anxious. "This potion – I have yet to determine."

"What's the goal?"

He smiles. "And ruin the surprise?"

"Always a mystery, Theodore Nott." She finishes her drink and runs her tongue along her bottom lip. "This was quite good. Have any more?"

**

As they drink more, Daphne tells him about leaving for Kyoto at the end of the day, after the battle was won. How her parents were detained in London for over two months before they were cleared to join their daughters.

"I was so afraid they'd be thrown into Azkaban," she admits, curling her hair behind her ear. "But they were furious that I had left, they wanted to question me too, but my mum can be quite scary when she needs to be."

"Have you been questioned by the Ministry?" he asks, filling up their goblets for them. He sent Gilly away after she prepared dinner. He found that she likes to keep company with the house-elves that work in the wizard inn in Reykavík.

She takes a long drink from her goblet. "Lasted for hours. Had me chained and everything. Asked what I knew about my parents, if I helped Death Eaters. If I knew where you were."

" _Me_?" he asks incredulously. He thought they were rather discreet regarding their burgeoning friendship in school.

"Not just you – other Slytherins as well," she answers dismissively. "But I was pretty useless to them. I was charged with accessory after the fact – since I failed to report my parents' donations once I became of age and therefore _hid_ their actions. They took almost everything. My parents' vault was empty save for a bag of Galleons. A _bag_. We've been relying on what you left me, and my sister's savings along with the generosity of my grandparents. I feel terrible."

He's already getting to his feet.

" _No_ , Theodore, please, I can't," she says, her drink sloshing precariously in her half-full goblet.

"I'm spending less than I originally calculated," he says, pulling out his trunk. While he has transferred his savings in his bogus account to a wizarding bank in Iceland, he still keeps at least half in readily available coins. He gives her a bag with a heavy amount of Galleons.

She stares at the bag with a conflicted expression. "You know," she says slowly, carefully, "I didn't come here for this." She meets his gaze. Her face is flushed from the wine, her eyes bright, but her words are sober.

He nods. "I know. Please."

After a moment, her free hand curls around the knot of the bag. "Thank you."

She gets up suddenly, placing her goblet on the table and walking around it, leaning down and forward and lightly pressing her lips to his cheek. Unlike the kiss Luna left him, this one ruins him.

She straightens up and suddenly yawns, bringing a hand to her mouth. 

"It's rather late," he says, his voice a little hoarse. "Let me – ah, Gilly's grand, changing the bedding," he rambles a little. While Gilly is not fond of financial payment, he'll have to insist. Or maybe he'll buy her something nice for the winter. "You can sleep here. I'll just whip up a cot." Suddenly he flushes so fiercely that it feels as if his face has been baking in the sun for hours. "That is, if you feel comfortable staying here," he says, choosing his words carefully. "I can take you into the city."

Daphne's face is flushed as well, more so than before. "It's quite alright, my staying here. If you don't mind. Just for tonight."

"Of course."

They get ready for bed in silence, beyond Theodore's explaining where everything is. 

They're resting in their respective cots on either side of his home, but he can still hear her when she asks, "Are you truly alright?"

He tries not to think about how she's seen with her own eyes what he did to his father.

"I am," he promises. "Sleep well."

"You too."

It takes him over an hour until he finally falls asleep.

**

In the morning, he offers to take her into the city.

"It's quite small, it's no London, but it's…charming," he allows.

She smiles over her tea. He wants this every morning. "I would like to get some souvenirs for my sister. At least something that's not immediately recognizable, of course."

"Sure."

He hasn't seen Daphne out of the school uniform very often, so it's still an anomaly, seeing her in navy tights, boots, and a peacoat. Actually seeing her figure, which he tries not to look at. He never had a lot of Muggle clothing, never needing much of it as a child, but he's made a few purchases over the last year to blend in.

"Sorry about the walking. It's a precaution," he says as they walk outside to the other side of his protection barriers.

"I don't mind it at all," she says.

He takes her hand and helps her over a set of rocks. He's glad they're both wearing gloves. He doesn't think he can handle touching her skin any time soon.

They've _never_ spent this much time alone together. It's strange, but it's thrilling. He wants more of it, but he knows he can't have it. He doesn't know how long she plans on staying, but eventually, she'll leave and go back to her life. And he'll go back to his.

**

She's luminous in a way he's utterly unfamiliar with. He caught glimpses of it in Hogwarts, but something about being so far away from what they know, with no heavy expectations weighing on them, she's a bit happier, a little freer in the way she carries herself.

He doesn't know how she tolerates him.

**

In the late afternoon, he brings her to the pub. Andrés looks _way_ too pleased behind the bar.

"Ah, so _this_ is your friend," he drawls. "Your very pretty friend."

Daphne smiles, tilting her head to the side. "Does my prettiness get me a spiced mead?"

"Absolutely. Would you like one as well, _Ted_?"

Theodore sneaks a glance at Daphne, who suddenly finds the rest of the pub very interesting. "Yes, thank you," he responds, sticking a hand in his pocket to find some stray Galleons or Sickles.

"You heard the lady – her prettiness earns her a drink. I think she's pretty enough to earn yours as well."

She gives Andrés a perfect smile.

"Don't know what you're doing hanging around the likes of him. Not very sociable," Andrés teases, pouring their drinks.

Daphne picks up her drink and takes a sip, smiling appreciatively. "No," she agrees. "But there's something about him, wouldn't you say?"

Theodore hates how his face heats up and hopes the darkness of the pub masks it.

"Yes, I suppose so. There you are."

Theodore picks up his mug and takes a long drink from it. He nearly jumps when he feels her hand rest on his back.

"Shall we grab that table? I can impress you with my Japanese. I'm passable now."

"I should expect nothing less."

She tries to teach him some basic phrases, but even he must accept defeat when it comes to learning languages. Nobody can be excellent at everything.

**

His good mood evaporates considerably when they Apparate outside his barriers and he realizes that someone has broken through.

He reaches into his coat and hands her a vial. "Drink this," he tells her.

She furrows her brow, but does as he asks, tipping her head back. After a moment, she blinks and stumbles. "What the –"

"Sobers you up. First potion I've managed to create. I got considerably drunk the summer between Fifth and Sixth Year." He goes into his coat again and pulls out a second vial.

"That's brilliant," she says in utter shock. "Do you _know_ how much you can _make_ –"

"I'm not quite ready for the wizarding world to reap what I sow yet," he says, shooting the vial back in one go.

It's an unpleasant sensation – the quickness of sobriety after such a pleasant buzz. "Come on."

It's not hard to be quiet and keep out of sight, with the sun setting earlier. By the time they're within sight of his home, the front door opens and Gilly greets them happily.

Theodore makes a violent gesture for her to not say anything, but Gilly says, "Master Theodore! Your guest arrived an hour ago!"

"Guest?" Daphne repeats under her breath, staring at Theodore.

"And whom did my guest introduce themselves as?" Theodore asks quietly.

"Mistress McGonagall, sir!"

Daphne and Theodore look at each other in disbelief.

**

Professor McGonagall – or, he supposes it's now Headmistress McGonagall – is sitting in his home, holding a cup of tea.

"You two certainly look well," Headmistress McGonagall says, standing up.

Theodore has _no words_ until he can manage one: " _How_?"

Gilly passes by him and places two cups of tea at the table. Daphne is the first to move, sitting down on the only chair available to Headmistress McGonagall's right. Theodore wordlessly conjures a third chair for himself, thanking Gilly under his breath.

"You may go, if there's nothing else that needs to be done," Theodore says to Gilly.

Gilly bows. "Thank you, sir! I will see you tomorrow, bright and early!" With a sharp crack, Gilly disappears.

"How, you ask, Nott? To your credit, you were impossible to find for months. I personally saw no urgency to find you. It was quite clear to me that you had never participated in Death Eater activities. It wasn't until your house was destroyed did I start to narrow down possibilities."

Theodore drinks his tea, careful not to look at Daphne.

"Your mother was an extraordinarily gifted witch in unusual ways," Headmistress McGonagall says. "A bit…scatter brained, however. Focused when she needed to be, I suppose. She asked Professor Flitwick and myself before graduation how to expand a room. She had an extensive book collection that she wanted to keep hidden from her future husband."

He clenches his jaw for a moment. "Would you like something stronger, Professor?" he asks with a forced politeness.

McGonagall nods, suddenly appearing very old.

"I'll fetch it," Daphne murmurs, getting to her feet.

"You might have seen destroying your home as a means of covering whatever tracks you may have left behind, but it did inadvertently reveal some things."

"Like what?" he asks, even toned.

"How much you loathed your father."

Daphne returns with a bottle of Quinton Black and three glasses. She pours everyone a generous amount.

"I had my suspicions about your father, but you were rather adept at keeping things to yourself. I take it you have his wand? It's unaccounted for."

Theodore finishes half his drink in one go before wordlessly heading to his bed, pulling out the trunk. There are many locks that keep his father's wand hidden; he hasn't figured out what to do with it.

He walks back to the table and places his father's wand on it.

McGonagall stares at it grimly. "And you know for sure –?"

"Yes."

Her nose twitches in disgust. "And it's safe to assume you –?"

"Yes."

She nods, taking an impressive drink. "I recalled your mother mentioning that she rescued her cat from Iceland. It had interesting coloring."

He remembers having an old cat when he was very young, but he had _no_ idea that she brought back a souvenir of her own from her holiday. _Shit_.

"You did do an excellent job," she says. "Many older wizards have not been this successful without help."

"So, are you here to bring me back to England, then?" Theodore asks, his hand slowly moving to his wand his pocket. Despite her age, McGonagall is a superior duelist, but he thinks he can put up a decent fight.

"Actually, Nott, I'm here to see how you're doing."

Theodore looks to Daphne, who seems to be a little more at ease. She shoots him a small smile.

"I'm doing quite well, thank you," Theodore says after a moment. 

He's sure that McGonagall smirks in amusement, but she drinks from her glass and he can't read her expression.

"Miss Greengrass," McGonagall says, looking toward her.

Daphne hides her surprise well, meeting McGonagall's gaze.

"I've arranged an interview for you at St. Mungo's next Monday. It's a waste to have your talents go unused," she says succinctly. "Since, I'm assuming, you plan on remaining in London?"

Daphne purses her lips together. "Yes, I would like to." Pause. "Thank you."

"While I don't… _appreciate_ what your House values, I know evil when I see it."

Theodore is more than sick of Slytherin being used as a shortcut to describe his character. And judging by Daphne's stormy expression, she feels the same way.

"You might want to inform St. Mungo's that I'm changing my name," Daphne says coolly. "Matsura."

McGonagall nods. "Probably for the best." She gets to her feet. "I'll restore your defenses, Nott. And add a few of my own. Her eyes look over their heads towards his work station. "Interesting potion you're working on. Very complex."

"It should be."

She narrows her eyes. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what it is?"

"I'm sure you'll know about it eventually," he answers.

She stares at him for a few moments. She reaches into her pocket and takes out a battered Muggle lighter. "This should make your trips into town a little easier. While you might enjoy long hikes to your home, I'm sure Miss Greengrass would appreciate it."

Daphne smiles.

"Well, Nott, Miss Greengrass," she says, taking his father's wand and pocketing it. "It was good to see you. And when you do make your return to England, I'd appreciate a warning."

He wants to argue that his returning to England is not a guarantee – far from it – but he can't hide here forever. And he would never want to – he has his freedom now, but eventually, this corner of the world won't be enough.

"You'll be the first to know," he says.

"You have a good house-elf," she comments as she makes her way to the door. "She makes quite a cup of tea."

Theodore shuts his eyes and can sense his defenses being brought up again, the new ones she adds, enchantments he's only begun to read about. He sighs and opens his eyes, finding Daphne looking at him.

"Will you take me to see the Northern Lights?" she asks suddenly.

He blinks in surprise. "Sure – tomorrow?"

"I was thinking maybe tonight."

He blinks in surprise, but nods in agreement. "You can borrow one of my robes. It's quite cold up north."

He lends her a fur-lined robe and the warmest scarf he has, that she wraps around her head and neck. Once they're ready, they take McGonagall's parting gift, finding themselves standing behind the pub.

Andrés is outside emptying bins. He raises an eyebrow at them. "She can drink like a fish, that McGonagall," he comments before heading back inside.

Daphne brings a hand to her mouth to hide her amusement. Theodore takes her arm and again and they Disapparate.

Grímsey is an island off the coast of mainland Iceland that he originally considered living on. However, with such a small population, he didn't want to attract the attention and he wanted to be as close to a major city as possible. Still, he comes here quite a bit.

They're lucky it's a clear night, so the lights are bright and visible. He’s beginning to appreciate his mother’s love for the inherent magic of the world.

"Oh," Daphne gasps, sitting down on the grassy plain, eyes wide in awe.

He sits down next to her and they stare at the sky in silence.

"Thank you," she sighs, finally peeling her eyes away from the sky to look at him. There's still an awestruck expression on her face, which makes him uncomfortable.

He nods.

He felt so far away from everything back at his home, but here, now, it's like they're on the edge of oblivion. They're sitting so close to one another that he can feel her arm pressing against his.

"I forgot to tell you," she says, rolling her eyes back at the sky. "My sister and Malfoy are _writing_ to each other."

"What?" he asks, surprised.

"Ghastly. They bumped into each other in London while she was buying school supplies for sixth year. They had got to talking and now they're _writing_."

He tries not to show amusement at the way she spits out _writing_. "Well, perhaps Malfoy could use a friend."

She snorts. "Right. I'll hex him if he tries anything, I swear."

"I have no doubt."

She looks at him and for a second, her eyes flicker to his mouth, then back at his eyes. He swallows, unable to find the same sort of control she had. He doesn't know how he feels about snogging – it appears unsanitary; he's unwillingly thought about snogging Daphne, but he can't see to get his mind wrapped around it –

"You've never…snogged anyone, have you?" she asks gently.

He hates the surge of embarrassment he feels. "Never felt the urge," he answers stiffly.

She nods, smiling a little. "I suppose if one of my options was Millicent Bulstrode, I wouldn't feel the urge either."

He snorts.

"How about now?" she asks boldly, her face flashing green.

His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his throat feels like sandpaper. "Perhaps," he allows, his voice weak.

She places her hand on top of his on the grass. She glances back up at the lights. He forces himself to get his breathing back in check. After a few minutes of silence, says, "I don't know when I'll be back in England," he says. "It maybe a year, maybe more."

He twists his hand in a reckless moment and laces their fingers together. He really grateful for his gloves; he's sure his palms are sweaty.

She smiles, opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind at the last minute, moving towards him. Slowly, he meets her halfway, her forehead pressing against his.

She brings her free hand to touch under his chin guiding his mouth to hers. He's sure his heart has stopped. But he was quite wrong about snogging being unpleasant.

His mind is blissfully blank and it's like they're the only two people in the world, which he wouldn't quite mind. They part and it takes him a moment too long to open his eyes. She smiles and he smiles back.

Her smile widens and he leans forward again, kissing her until he thinks he may have a handle on it.

**

The five days he spends with her are, well. Not worth sharing.

**

They say their farewells on an empty stretch of beach in Vík.

"Are you _really_ not going to tell me what that bloody potion is?" she asks, keeping hold of his cloak in one hand.

"Fine," he allows, "I'll tell you." He leans forward, whispering in her ear. When he pulls back, her eyes are wide and her mouth is a little slack.

"Clever, clever, clever," she says, pulling him back into her space.

Clever indeed – it'll be revolutionary, if he manages it, and his ticket to being left alone for the rest of his life. But there's time to ponder that later – for now, he basks in sharing something with someone and not feeling ill about it at all. Once the Portkey takes her back to London, he'll go back to his home, try to get used to sleeping alone in his bed, and continue with his life in self-imposed solitude. At least for now.

After all, most of those circumstances are temporary.

Once Daphne is gone, he walks along the beach, considering taking the time and effort to learn Japanese. He follows the path Luna took and sees a creature she had written about in _The Quibbler_ recently. He crouches down and gently runs his fingers down its furry spine. Luna _did_ mention that its saliva may have some healing properties…

Theodore carefully picks it up – no bigger than the palm of his hand. "Come along, let's see how you can be helpful." He Disapparates.

Time to get back to his regular routine.

Except his home has traces of Daphne in it – she thought it could use some _sprucing_ , whatever that means. Some of his mother's books are on shelves, but most are still in Daphne's charmed bag, at least for the time being. Luna's odd creature is crawling around the floor. He tosses McGonagall's Portkey lighter on the table. It's almost bothersome how he has two extra chairs at the table, but he doesn't get rid of them.

He inhales and exhales heading over to his work station, reading over his notes once before he begins working.

At one point, he catches himself humming, something that his mother would do when she was happy. On odd concept, really, but he supposes he can get used to it.


End file.
